


Click-Boom Then It Happened

by dreamlittleyo



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Rank Disparity, Romance, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 06:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13992681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: As disastrous away missions went, it could have been worse.Prompt:Trickster





	Click-Boom Then It Happened

**Author's Note:**

  * For [malapertqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/malapertqueen/gifts).



As disastrous away missions went, it could have been worse.

They were parting on friendly terms with the near-omnipotent intelligence Hamilton had pissed off. It was a feat he still couldn't quite believe; never let it be said that George Washington didn't know diplomacy. They would return to the Nelson soon enough, and from there set up a warning buoy. Starfleet preferred not repeat mistakes.

Grateful as Hamilton was to be neither dead nor insane, he _wasn't_ happy.

"I'm sure Doctor Schuyler will be able to fix this," Washington said—out loud—as they trudged their way across steep terrain, toward the contact point that would allow them to beam through an otherwise impenetrable ion barrier.

_Of course she will_. Hamilton did not care if his captain heard the words, the insubordinate tone, the roil of simmering frustration in his thoughts. _But meanwhile? This is the fucking worst_.

All he picked up in answer was a glimpse of the rebuke Washington chose not to voice. Good. Hamilton wasn't going to apologize for his attitude. It wasn't as though his captain could hold him accountable for _thoughts_. 

Thoughts Washington shouldn't be able to hear in the first place.

It had been a parting gift from the entity they were leaving behind. A telepathic link between captain and communications officer, unwanted and unasked for. Inconvenient at best, potentially disastrous at worst. Hamilton did not let his thoughts linger that direction. He kept his entire focus on fuming, and on matching his captain's stride.

_Trust me_ , the entity had said, a hint of laughter chortling directly in their minds. _This will do you both good. I have only your best interests at heart_.

Hamilton very much doubted this was true, but it wasn't as though he could argue. He and Washington were lucky to be leaving at all.

They reached the rendezvous point in silence. Hamilton's own thoughts remained stormy. It was remarkably difficult to _deliberately_ not think about something, and clearing his mind was out of the question. If he wanted to keep his secrets, his only option was distraction. Focus on how furious he was, how frustrated, how impatient to be back aboard ship where they could undo this curse.

They stopped at the base of a tall cliff, perfectly positioned according to the tricorder in Hamilton's hands. Beside him, Washington stood perfectly still. There was unaccustomed tension in the straightness of his spine, the line of his shoulders, the clench of his jaw. Beneath the surface his captain's mind was equally tense—deliberately blank—and nearly _buzzing_ with the obvious effort of remaining that way.

It seemed his captain had secrets, too.

Washington flipped open his communicator. "Nelson, can you read me?"

" _Captain_." Lafayette's relieved voice burst across the comm line. "We've been trying to reach you for _five hours_. I was considering sending a second party down to search for you."

"I specifically ordered you _not_ to do that, Commander," Washington observed sternly, though Hamilton sensed his captain's grudging swell of fondness. Lafayette was a good first officer. He would not defy orders lightly.

"Oui," Lafayette said. "That is why I only _considered_ it. You are very late."

"Yes," Washington agreed. "And we're ready to beam aboard, if you're not too busy."

"Immediately, sir. Nelson out."

The comm line cut, and Hamilton wondered if he should say something. The silence between them stretched heavily. Washington's eyes were on him, piercing and curious, and Hamilton felt... _Something_. Something besides the complicated mess of secrets he guarded himself. A twinge of emotion he couldn't identify, touching his mind but not his own.

"Sir?" he asked, suddenly uncertain.

Washington opened his mouth as though to speak, but whatever words he intended didn't come. A moment later the transporter's swirl of light and energy crackled around them. Hamilton felt familiar vertigo, and then bright disorientation, a split second of _nothing_ followed by the bright glow of the transporter pad as the beam dissipated around him.

Washington stood beside him, as tense and unreadable as before.

Half the senior staff was waiting in the transporter room, quiet but obviously worried. Eliza stood closest to the transporter pad. Her focus was held by the medical tricorder in her hand, scanning vital signs before even acknowledging their arrival.

"Doctor Schuyler." Washington did not acknowledge the rest of the room. "Would you accompany us to sickbay?"

Eliza raised her head and blinked up at him. "Of course. Sir, some of these readings are—"

"Yes. You can tell us en route." Washington stepped down from the transporter pad, casting his gaze to the man immediately behind Eliza. "Gil, prep a subspace warning beacon to place in orbit when we depart. I want a signal designating this planet a class-seventeen hazard."

Lafayette stared at Washington. Stared at Hamilton. Stared at Washington again for a moment, clearly perplexed by the danger-assessment when both missing crewmen had returned to the ship intact and unharmed.

It required every scrap of Hamilton's self-restraint to bite his tongue and keep quiet. He had trouble with the chain of command at the best of times—procedure was never the most efficient way to get something done—and in this moment he wanted very much to make his opinions known.

Instead he followed silently as Washington led the way toward the door.

"I'll conduct a complete staff briefing at thirteen-hundred hours," Washington said to the room at large. "Please hold all questions until then. Doctor Schuyler?"

Eliza fell into step alongside Hamilton, and both of them followed their captain into the corridor.

"Sir," Eliza began now that they were moving, staring at her tricorder without breaking stride. "Physically you two are in perfect health, but your neural scans... Frankly, I've never seen anything like this."

"Can you fix it?" Hamilton asked. He kept his eyes on Eliza, on the tricorder in her hands, on the corridor around them. On _anything at all_ besides the stiff line of Washington's back.

"Fixing it would require figuring out what happened." Eliza closed the tricorder and gave Hamilton a grim look. "Maybe the equipment in sickbay will tell me more, but at the moment? I don't even know where to start."

Hamilton bit his tongue to keep from erupting in a string of curses. The oaths echoed unspoken through his mind instead, and they must have been projecting noisily because Washington—without stopping or slowing—turned and _looked_ at Hamilton over his shoulder. Eyebrow high, mouth quirked down at one corner.

A moment later and Washington faced forward again, voice stern as he ordered, "I need you to remain calm, Colonel. This is an inconvenience. Nothing more."

Hamilton bit his tongue even harder against the flare of frustration, forcing his thoughts down more abstract paths—mathematical concepts, diplomatic procedures, subspace relay design—in order to avoid anything that might inspire an even angrier rebuke. Washington was right. This was only an inconvenience. At least, it would be, if Hamilton did not have such a specific problem.

He did not keep many secrets. He kept fewer from Washington than from anyone else. But those he did keep? Those were his, and Washington was the _last damn person on the ship_ Hamilton could afford as a witness to them.

By the time they reached sickbay his mind was relatively clear. Still irked, still seething, still straining to keep any surfacing thoughts in appropriate realms.

What he wouldn't give, to beam back down to the planet and find a way to punch a non-corporeal entity in the face.

But since that wasn't an option, he kept quiet instead. Followed where Eliza directed, waited in impatient silence while she ran scan after scan. He chimed in during Washington's explanation of both problem and cause, but otherwise he did not speak. Eliza compared their previous medical files to her current data. Compared their neural patterns side-by-side. Conducted every test she could think of and then some, all without success.

"I'm sorry," she said at last. Setting aside the neural probe and crossing her arms in resignation. "I can't find any discernible cause. I'll keep going through the data, but these symptoms... They're _just symptoms_. There's no underlying affliction for me to treat."

"Fuck," Hamilton breathed. There was no point _not_ saying it out loud. Eliza wouldn't care, and Washington would hear it regardless.

He could feel the distinct and deliberate effort it required for Washington not to scold him. _Language, Colonel_ , hovered unspoken but perfectly discernible in the space between them. Eliza's eyes were wide and apologetic, darting from Washington to Hamilton and back again.

Normally Hamilton would not blame the messenger for bad news. And he _didn't_ blame Eliza, really. She was the best doctor in Starfleet. If the answer to their problem wasn't apparent to _her_ , then maybe there wasn't an answer at all. The thought made his insides clench and his heart pound too fast. He could not keep this up forever.

At least Eliza didn't seem especially troubled by the scowl on Hamilton's face. Her expression of concern was no more and no less than he'd seen her wear in other troubling circumstances.

"I'd like to keep you both in sickbay for at least twenty-four hours," she said, "under my direct observation. Humans don't spontaneously develop telepathy for no reason, with or without help. There _has_ to be an identifiable cause."

"Of course, Doctor," Washington answered for both of them. "Whatever you need."

"I'll set up a private room for you."

Hamilton scowled harder. Bad enough he had his captain _in his head_ , now he was supposed to spend the next twenty-four hours sequestered alone with him? Twenty-four hours on high alert, guarding his thoughts. It sounded like absolute hell.

Washington's gaze held him, bright and unreadable. But then, Hamilton didn't need to read his captain's eyes to know what was going on in the man's head. The burst of ire, the parallel of bright concern, the undercurrent of staticky blank that meant there were things Washington didn't want _him_ to see. All this was vivid and unmistakable, and Hamilton _hated_ that Washington could read him just as clearly.

"Doctor," Washington said without taking his eyes off Hamilton. "Is there somewhere Alexander and I can speak privately while you make those arrangements?"

"My office is available," Eliza offered without hesitation.

"Thank you." Washington turned and made his way deeper into sickbay, past closed doors and surgery rooms, along the narrow hallway to Eliza's private office. Hamilton followed stiffly, mouth pressed into a thin line, spine tight and straight.

Only once they were alone with the door securely locked did Washington turn and _look_ at him. Dark eyes narrowed with displeasure as he took Hamilton in. An echo of that displeasure hummed through both their minds. Hamilton stood at attention and did not say a word.

Washington shook his head. "If you have something to say, Colonel, _now_ is the time for it."

Hamilton clenched his jaw and remained silent. He had his thoughts on solid lockdown—solid enough, anyway—but he still did not trust his mouth. He had a history of speaking without thinking, of making trouble for himself that could easily have been avoided. Under the present circumstances, better to simply not speak at all.

"Alexander," Washington said more gently—though Hamilton could sense just how much effort it cost to set his vexation aside. "It's clear something is bothering you besides the obvious."

Hamilton measured his words with difficulty. "All due respect, sir? But even if that were true, the fact that you're _in my head_ wouldn't make it any of your business."

"I'm your captain," Washington countered, sounding decidedly strained. "Your wellbeing is as much my business as any other member of this crew."

"I'm _fine_ ," Hamilton snapped, louder and sharper than he intended.

Washington blinked at him for a moment, obviously startled by the ferocity of the outburst.

"You're clearly _not_ fine. Son—"

And oh, Hamilton couldn't prevent the gut-deep wrench of angry denial that careened through him with that one word. Fuck, he _hated_ when Washington called him 'son'. Over the years he'd mastered the skill of keeping any reaction off his face, but he could do nothing to prevent Washington from feeling the spike of desperate denial that rose inside him.

Washington gawped at him. If he'd been startled at Hamilton's outburst before, he was obviously floored now.

And hurt.

Fuck. This connection cut both ways, and Hamilton could sense with painful clarity that he had wounded his captain without speaking a word.

For an uncomfortable moment they stared at each other in awkward silence. Hamilton could not bring himself to apologize. Hell, after so many years of choking his reactions down, he felt incongruous relief to have them out in the open.

Abruptly, Washington turned his back, bracing his palms on Eliza's desk and burying any hint of hurt behind the guarded blank of more cautious thought. It was impressive, honestly. Hamilton had always known his captain must possess an orderly mind to go with all that outward control, but to see it for himself was... surreal, and not entirely welcome. He wondered what the messy chaos of his own thoughts must look like in return. He wondered just how much he was giving away even now.

"I apologize." Washington spoke with just a hint of gravel. "I didn't realize it bothered you. I will not repeat the mistake."

"It doesn't matter," Hamilton said, doing his damnedest to believe his own lie.

A burst of incredulity reached him, and Washington turned around to gape across the narrow length of Eliza's office. Hamilton closed his mouth and gave his captain a defiant look, all but daring him to make a challenge out of this.

"Will you tell me _why_ you hate it?" Washington pressed, and this time his voice carried a glimmer of the agitation roiling in his mind.

"No." Hamilton focused on his own frustration, his own anger. He did _not_ let his mind wander down any subtler paths, and he _very determinedly_ did not think about why he hated when Washington called him 'son'. "Sir. Is there a reason you wanted to speak in private? Because I sure as hell don't have anything productive to say."

Washington breathed a tired sigh and crossed his arms over his chest. The pose made his enormous shoulders look even more imposing, despite the exasperated expression he wore.

"I just needed to be sure you're all right," Washington said at last. "You seemed agitated."

"Of course I'm fucking _agitated_ ," Hamilton blurted. Again he heard his captain's voice as though the words had been spoken aloud— _Language, Colonel_ —and again the rebuke raised his hackles and set him bracing for a fight.

"I know the situation is less than ideal." Washington's voice took on a placating note. "But we need only remain calm until Doctor Schuyler finds a remedy."

" _Only_ ," Hamilton retorted, voice rising despite his best efforts to calm himself. Fuck, he couldn't do this. He couldn't last twenty-four hours of medical observation. What if Eliza didn't find an answer? 

"She will," Washington answered the unvoiced question.

"But what if she _doesn't_?" Panic had grown from a threatening ember to a wildfire in Hamilton's chest, desperate and impossible to contain. "We might be stuck like this forever. No offense, sir, but I'm not keen on having you in my head until the end of time."

Washington sucked in a harsh breath, and for an instant all Hamilton could feel from him was a bright, clear surge of hurt. Worse than a moment before. Wordless, frozen, utterly silent. His captain masked the reaction in an imperfect instant—or... No, he didn't _mask it_ , exactly. Washington couldn't hide anything so directly, just like Hamilton had no hope of guarding his own secrets if he looked at them straight-on while Washington was in his head.

It was more like Washington had taken his own reactions—his feelings—and shunted them off to the side somewhere. Locked them out of reach and put something more detached and practical in their place.

After what felt like the galaxy's most awkward eternity, it was Washington who finally spoke. "Whatever it is you're so terrified I'll see, I give you my word it won't affect my opinion of you."

And fuck, Hamilton couldn't help it. He laughed, an achy, disbelieving sound. Within an instant he clamped his mouth shut so hard his teeth clicked. But even with his mouth tightly closed he couldn't stop Washington from hearing the unspoken retort, practically a shout through the connection between them.

_Don't make promises you can't fucking keep._

Washington only shook his head. "Whatever it is can't be that bad."

Hamilton's eyes narrowed and he turned his back, clenched his hands at his sides. Willed himself to _calm_. The anger had been an acceptable distraction up to a point, but he'd let it carry him too far. He needed to rein himself back in, regain his self-control. Find a different way to keep himself unreadable.

"Alexander, please." Washington's tone was soft and measured, but his thoughts were smudged with desperation. "This is a _temporary inconvenience_. Why are you so terrified?"

_Because if you find out I'm in love with you, you'll send me away_.

Fuck.

_Fuck_.

Jesus fuck, what had he just done? All this effort, all this panic, all this _bullshit_ trying to redirect his entire brain and not give himself away...

And he'd done it anyway. A single careless burst, and now the only secret that mattered was out in the open. He might as well have written his captain a goddamn love letter for all that he'd managed to keep this shit out of sight where it belonged. 

"I didn't— I didn't mean that. It's not what it sounds like." He very abruptly resented Washington's internal calm. His apparent skill for guiding and guarding his own thoughts. Despite Washington's obvious shock, it was impossible to read beyond the confused and indecipherable tumble of surprise.

Hamilton felt a familiar fight-or-flight burst of panic in his chest, and moved without conscious intent. He couldn't fight his captain—didn't want to in any case—which meant retreat was the only path available. He was only a couple paces from the exit, and from there he would let instinct guide him.

But he only managed one step before Washington's voice rang sharply through the room. "Computer, lock door, captain's command seal nine-epsilon-four."

Hamilton whirled on him with a choked sound, squaring his shoulders and staring at his captain with wide eyes.

"What do you think you're doing?" He took a backward step because the alternative was storming straight forward into his captain's space, spoiling for a fight. The door was cool and hard along his spine. "Unlock this door."

"Not until you calm down. I give you my word I won't reassign you."

"Don't patronize me." Hamilton glared and pressed his back harder against the door. "You're three seconds from panicking yourself, I can see it in your eyes." He could feel it, too. In the strain Washington was obviously exerting to keep his mind orderly, the tenuous veneer of calm stretched thin over a startled whirlwind.

"This isn't panic," Washington countered, and if all Hamilton had to go on was the expression on his captain's face the statement might even be convincing. "This is concern."

"Bullshit." Fuck, his face was too warm. He was blushing, bright and furious. He felt completely naked right now, and he goddamn hated it. There was no point trying to argue his inadvertent confession away when Washington had seen everything clear as day. "If you were actually okay with this, you wouldn't be keeping me out of your head."

Washington blinked. "I'm not keeping you out." It was a transparent lie, and Hamilton felt the internal cringe almost the instant the words were out of Washington's mouth. Another moment of painful silence, and Washington amended weakly, "I _can't_ keep you out. You know that."

"Well, you're doing a damn good job faking it. Whatever you're thinking right now, you're going to a lot of trouble to make sure I don't see it. Why? Afraid you'll hurt my feelings? Believe me, sir, I already know how you see me. I don't need a window into your head to know I'm just some overambitious kid who's only on your crew by luck and stubbornness."

Washington's eyes narrowed. "I have never thought _any_ of those things about you. My God, is that really what you think?"

Hamilton bit his own lower lip to shut himself up, because if he let his mouth run he was only going to dig himself deeper. Most days he could bring more rational logic to bear on his relationship with his captain. If Washington didn't want him on this ship, Hamilton wouldn't be here. If Washington didn't consider him a reliable member of the crew, he wouldn't keep taking Hamilton with him on dangerous away missions.

But Washington had called him 'son' the very first time they'd met. And in the years since, Hamilton had never heard him use the appellation on anyone else.

"I know I'm young." Hamilton's eyes cut to the floor and he felt the blush spread farther across his face, down his throat. "But I earned my place here. I'm not a _child_." Fuck, he was shaking now. He was in love with his captain, and his captain _knew it_ and wouldn't let him leave, and all Hamilton wanted was to crawl beneath Eliza's desk and hide until the next red alert.

"Of course you're not a child." Washington sounded—and felt—genuinely horrified at the suggestion. An instantaneous and gut-deep reaction that heartened Hamilton more than it probably should have. His captain would reject him regardless, but at least it wouldn't be for any inability to take him seriously.

Hamilton continued to glower at the floor, shoulders bunched up to his ears and posture painfully tight. He tried not to notice Washington's thoughts, didn't want to let them in when he already knew how painful they would be. There was no measurable difference between his confidence of rejection and the incontrovertible proof of it, and yet somehow the thought of crossing the line into certainty made Hamilton's whole chest hurt.

He was so focused on not paying attention to his captain that he didn't notice the movement in his peripheral vision, the cautious approach and then pause just beyond touching distance.

"Alexander," Washington said, significantly closer than he'd been standing before.

Hamilton's head snapped up and his awareness—no longer twisted beneath his stubborn control—returned to Washington in an instant. He still couldn't untangle the cluster of guarded feelings, but he recognized an undeniable absence among them.

He blinked, confused, and heard himself ask in a dubious voice, "Why aren't you angry about this?"

The question only rendered Washington's thoughts _more_ guarded—suspicious as hell from where Hamilton stood—and Washington answered belatedly after several seconds of silence. "Because your private feelings are none of my business."

It tasted like a lie.

Hamilton shook his head. "That's not it. That's not why."

"Colonel," Washington said, and the sudden reversion to rank was even more suspicious than the way he still wouldn't allow any clear glimpse of his thoughts.

"Why are you lying to me?"

The question landed hard, and Hamilton could see the moment of impact. The widening of dark eyes, the tightening of already rigid posture, the halting backward step. He could feel it, too. A startled shattering of Washington's defenses. Like a fault line, cracking and spreading and revealing a storm front beneath.

That storm front was nearly overwhelming. Fuck, it was so much more than Hamilton had imagined beneath his captain's imperfect facade of calm. A roiling chaos of feelings, all messy and conflicted and potent, every bit as disastrous as the panicked noise filling Hamilton's own head.

And amid the torrent a bright, clattering truth.

_I'm in love with you, too_.

" _Oh my god_ ," Hamilton breathed.

Washington took another step back. And then another that was more of a stumble. When he reached Eliza's desk he slumped against the edge, staring at Hamilton with the guilt-stricken look of a man who knew there was nowhere to run.

"Computer, unlock door," Washington ordered in a shaky voice. "Command override nine-epsilon-four."

"Oh, hell no." Hamilton pushed off from the door before the computer could so much as beep in response. By the time the command override registered, he was far enough away to avoid tripping the sensors. This conversation was not over.

"Colonel Hamilton," Washington started. He had both hands braced to either side of him, clinging to Eliza's desk, knuckles white he was holding on so hard. "I swear I didn't intend—"

"Clearly," Hamilton interrupted. His heart hammered frantically in his chest as he took a more decisive step forward—not just away from the door this time, but toward his captain—determined and terrified and wild with hope. He kept moving and didn't stop until he stood directly before his captain.

They were almost exactly of a height like this, with Washington leaning stiffly on the desk and Hamilton standing straight and stubborn in front of him. 

_You're in love with me_ , he thought. It repeated in his head like a mantra. _You're in love with me. You're in love with me. You're in love with me._

His captain was in love with him, and suddenly the uninvited connection between their minds didn't seem quite so much of a disaster.

"Alexander." Washington sounded distinctly strained. "You know this is not a conversation we can have."

"Why not?"

Washington gave him an incredulous look, accompanied by a flash of almost admiring disbelief. "Because Starfleet's fraternization rules _exist for a reason_. I'm your captain."

"You think you'd be taking advantage of me?" Hamilton retorted dryly. "Sir, it is distinctly possible I want this even more than you do."

"What we want is irrelevant, my boy," Washington said, and oh, the raw and complicated _feeling_ carried by the words. It set loose a matching cascade in Hamilton's heart, even as Washington continued, "Whatever you're picturing... It won't work. It would be inappropriate at best, gross misconduct at worst."

"So we don't tell anyone." Clearly they were both capable of keeping secrets. They'd kept this from each other... How long? Hamilton couldn't guess. He'd fallen within weeks of coming aboard Washington's ship. He wondered how long his feelings had been unknowingly returned.

"You know it's not that simple," Washington said softly.

He was right. Hamilton _did_ know. The problem was, after keeping this secret for so damn long, he could no longer bring himself to care. The thought of putting this revelation back in the shadows, of returning to their usual rules and routines now that he knew the truth—now that Washington _wanted him_ —Hamilton couldn't bear the idea.

There was no point trying to convince Washington with words. Reason was not on Hamilton's side.

But for once he didn't need to argue. He only needed to _feel_.

"Please," he said. One word, quiet and hopeful and desperate. He eased forward, close enough to touch. Putting himself in Washington's space, exactly where he needed to be. He let loose every honest feeling he had ever hidden away. Every fantasy, every want, every moment he had pretended not to hunger for his captain's affection and approval. He was completely terrified, but he didn't let that stop him.

"Alexander." There was wonder in Washington's voice, and a bright flash of grudging hope in his mind.

Then Hamilton took the final step forward, and Washington reached for him, and together they closed the distance. Washington pulled their bodies flush and Hamilton lost his balance, stumbled into the inviting warmth of his captain's body. His pride didn't care—he didn't need to be graceful—Washington's mouth was already on him, claiming a frantic kiss that Hamilton readily returned.

There was so much strength in the arms that circled and held Hamilton, so much life in the broad chest beneath his palm, so much hunger in the kiss deepening between them.

Fuck, how had Hamilton survived so long thinking he couldn't have this?

They were both breathing hard when they parted. Hamilton kept his eyes closed for several heart-spinning seconds. The cacophony in his heart didn't belong to him alone, and that seemed so impossible. There was an irrational part of him terrified that if he opened his eyes now, it would turn out none of this was real.

"Of course it's real." Washington murmured the words quietly, lips a tease of pressure at the hinge of Hamilton's jaw, breath warm on his skin.

Hamilton still did not open his eyes. "I can't go back to pretending. I can't—" His voice broke and choked away. It took him a moment to try again. "I can't lose you now that I _know_."

"You won't." The words were a promise. Hamilton could feel the truth in them, and in the rest of Washington's words. "I'm not going anywhere. We'll have to be careful, but we'll figure something out. Alexander, please look at me."

Hamilton drew a shaky breath and blinked, drew back just far enough to meet his captain's gaze. There were smile lines crinkling at the corners of Washington's eyes, a cautious but genuine twitch of his mouth, a faint blush across his handsome face. Fuck, he was beautiful.

And because he had a front-row view of Washington's thoughts, he knew his captain was thinking much the same thing about him.

Maybe if Eliza didn't find a remedy, that wouldn't be so bad after all.

"We should still check in with her," Washington murmured. "Before she comes looking and finds us... compromised."

Hamilton couldn't resist the grin that spread across his face. "Are you saying you don't trust yourself to behave around me?"

"I'm saying if my chief medical officer walked into her office right now, we would have a great deal of explaining to do."

Hamilton sighed, more dramatically than necessary, and extricated himself from Washington's arms. He hated to do it, but Washington was right. "Fine. But after she releases us from medical observation? You're taking me back to your quarters so we can finish this discussion."

He let the heat of his thoughts convey just how he intended this conclusion to go.

Washington's eyes clouded over with want, and it took him several seconds to answer, "Yes. That sounds like an excellent plan to me."

**Author's Note:**

> I also hang out **[over on Dreamwidth](https://dreamlittleyo.dreamwidth.org/)** if that is a place anyone still goes. In the rare instance I'm inspired to post things that aren't fic--or participate in wider fandom happenings--that's where you'll find me. :D


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